The return of the perennially world-weary Arab Strap in 2021, after an absence of fifteen years, was as welcome as it was surprising. The Album, As Days Get Dark, provided the perfect continuation of a narrative that Aiden Moffat began back in 1995 – the alcohol having taken its toll, and a darker, more lingering regret circling the memories of lustful encounters.
Alongside the aging process, both Days Get Dark and I’m Totally Fine With It Don’t Give A Fuck Anymore reference the computer and mobile phone advances that have opened up new avenues for sordid encounters. With both albums packaged like floppy discs, and the lyric sheet presented as a series of texts, we find ourselves lost in a world lit largely by screens, compounding a loneliness that was only imagined before social media gave us a window into just how happy everybody else is. It’s a compelling device that sees the band aging alongside their audience, remaining relevant even as they swim against an impossible tide. I don’t know if any of it makes you feel good, but it surely cuts close to the bone, at least reminding you that you’re part of a human experience and not as isolated as you sometimes feel.
It opens with the surprisingly hard-edged All At Onceness, the off-kilter drums providing a piledriving backdrop for Malcom Middleton’s bass, as Aiden laments an increasing addiction to message boards in preference to experiencing real life. Dourly thrilling, the track positively seethes at the state of things and ends with the chilling words “…and I think I love it”. The band slip into the world of thumping dance music for Bliss, which nods to Girls Of Summer, only for the lyrics to draw us into a dark world where increasing solipsism is juxtaposed with the media ramping up fear of youths on every street corner. As Aiden notes, “they’re not new, but now they’ve got a good venue.”
Social media comes once more to the fore on Sociometer Blues, the relationship painted as dysfunctional and abusive, sexual metaphors clothing something far darker and more insidious as the drums ripple through the mix. A more reflective tone emerges on the twitchy, arpeggiated Hide Your Fires, which sees “somebody somewhere… wearing our past”. Then there’s Summer Season which finds Aidan roaming the bars, emailing and messaging an old flame, only to find the messages read and no response forthcoming. As the curtain comes down on the album’s first half, we catch one glimpse of him sat, alone, in some seedy bar as couples stroll past, reminding him of a long gone past.
The disturbing Molehills opens up the second half of the album, with the titular animal providing an allegory for something far deadlier. Built around cheesy 80s synth sounds and a none-more-brutal bassline, Strawberry Moon is a strangely catchy piece, that sounds like Chemical Brothers going head to head with Beck circa Mellow Gold. It’s followed by one of the saddest songs on the album – You’re Not There – the cry of everyone who’s ever experienced loss, as they reach out to someone no longer reachable. The surprisingly sweet Haven’t You Heard cuts through the chatter to offer an honest declaration of love, backed by a simple piano motif and chunky beat. In contrast, the simple guitar and vocal piece Safe And Well is a heartbreaking tale of someone dead behind closed doors, with no one to mourn their passing.
With the album hurtling by, Dreg Queen is another heard hitting number that relates the familiar tale of a night getting out of hand – the sordid excuses and early morning walk home, money gone, and the night’s excesses already turning into ashes in your mouth. It’s a lyrical masterpiece and the music, pairing shimmering guitars with a throbbing disco beat, perfectly brings it to life. Final track, Turn Off the Light brings the album to close with one final cry of desperation as the unnamed protagonist trades family and friends for an online community that only provides security when the content is free flowing. A slow building piece that allows the guitars one brief moment of explosive freedom, it provides a chilling, heart breaking coda to an album that frequently dips into the most vulnerable areas of the psyche, leaving you to wonder just how far lost we really are.
I’m Totally Fine With It Don’t Give A Fuck Anymore is another remarkable effort from a band whose sole purpose seems to be in holding up a mirror to the society that spawned it. Led by Aiden’s beautifully worded and exceptional humanitarian poetry, it digs into uncomfortable subjects, with a wide-ranging soundtrack to match. As with the previous album, the production (Paul Savage) is sublime, capturing the essence of the band with unnerving clarity, and the result is an album that you will play over and over again, absorbing every nuance, and doing everything in your power to avoid the fate of those found lurking within its lyrics. 9.5/10
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